


only you

by softlees



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: ???? i guess??? not rly sure how 2 tag this, Introspection, M/M, Songfic, also kinda since i fixated again oops, also loving boys....., but philosophy x wonwoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 03:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13425450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlees/pseuds/softlees
Summary: sometimes wonwoo gets in his own head.





	only you

**Author's Note:**

> yea so i kind of fixated on [ maths time joy's only you](https://open.spotify.com/track/3Z8iaV3N2twUewpORqoprj?si=jYcGcj6QSfe41ONH4xWaOw) n im sending this out into the void cause the lyrics rly made me!!!! and the soft slow beat & suddenly i was thinking snwu and voila this was birthed!!! its mostly this line: "only you can help me to forget the terror of being alive" which is all kinds of eerie beautiful n i wanted to explore it a bit more
> 
> now i realize that many of my fics are inspired by songs but its ok thats how my brain works 
> 
> this includes: a lot of references to things i am currently learning in school & a more heavy tone than my previous works... tbh i don't rly know what this is but im happy with it... it probably doesnt make sense... but i'd love it if u could leave ur thoughts ♡

Wonwoo gets in these headspaces. 

He doesn’t know what else to really call it. He doesn’t really know how else to explain it either.

Sometimes he feels terrifyingly large. Sometimes he feels terrifyingly small. Sometimes it’s pitch black but his eyes are wide open, unseeing. Sometimes it’s much too bright and he wants to close his eyes, but he never can quite squeeze them shut.

Most of the time he doesn’t know what’s going on. Most of the time he doesn’t expect to. 

Soonyoung tried to understand it. Once. But it became exhausting for Wonwoo to explain and exhausting for Soonyoung to grasp and so it is here they stand, in this sort of limbo that makes Wonwoo tear apart at the seams because he wants to try and tell Soonyoung what’s going on, he really does, and he sees him on the other side, he  _ sees _ him, he swears, it’s just. It’s just hard. There are times where Wonwoo has trouble putting words to feelings and feelings to words. When he gets like this, stuck in his headspace, he has a tough time with both. It becomes a bridge that they can never cross. 

“It’s okay,” Soonyoung says, shooting Wonwoo a smile that breaks his heart instead of healing it, like it’s meant to. 

(It’s not, but they can pretend.)

On days when it’s particularly hard, with these thoughts of his, Wonwoo sits. He sits and he waits it out. He curls up inside his head, sticks out those long long legs of his and parks himself in a corner of his brain - metaphorically of course, because everything’s a goddamn metaphor these days, a jumbled mess of words that try to cover up the sharp bitter taste of reality. He studied the brain’s parts, once, for a course he didn’t care about. He traces them in his head, softly, so his thoughts don’t find him.  _ Cerebral cortex. Cerebrum. Dura mater. Medulla oblongata. Pons. Midbrain. Pituitary. Pineal. Corpus callosum. Temporalparietalfrontaloccipital.  _ He doesn’t know why these words have stuck, but maybe it’s something about the fact there exists, somewhere, inside of him, a part that can be mapped out easily that gives him comfort. It is an anchor to settle down upon, to tether him to the ground, when the rest of him is tumultuous and violent and unknown.

He sits on these thoughts, fries them over and over again until he can’t take the taste of them burning in his head any longer. He looks in the mirror and tells himself to get out. He grabs a hammer and smashes the glass, and doesn’t mind the bleeding.

When he resurfaces, Soonyoung does nothing more than kiss him on the forehead and ruffle his hair. He asks if Wonwoo would like to eat (the answer is almost always yes) and if Wonwoo would like to watch a movie together (yes, to that, too). Wonwoo spends more time watching Soonyoung than the movie. 

Soonyoung doesn’t ask if Wonwoo’s okay. They’re far beyond that. Instead, Soonyoung curls up into Wonwoo and they fall asleep together, breathing in each other’s air. Listening to Wonwoo’s heartbeat, Soonyoung says, tells him all that he needs to know.

It hits Wonwoo like a spectacular nothing. It fills the space between his lungs, but when he moves to grab hold of it, it disappears. All he’s left with is a wide blooming in his chest, a warm epiphany and magnificent sunrise all rolled into one. 

There are different versions to every truth there in this world, different lenses by which you can view the ground beneath your feet. Wonwoo has put on every pair in these headspaces of his, at least once, and looked,  _ really _ looked, at them. Him and Soonyoung. Soonyoung and him. Hume says you cannot make an  _ ought _ from an  _ is _ , but Wonwoo begs to differ. Soonyoung ought to leave him behind for all the  _ I can’t _ s Wonwoo gives him, but here he is, stubbornly staying and loving and kind. There is sunshine where Soonyoung stands, and Wonwoo feels a little bit like an amorphous black hole, and a lot bit selfish for stealing away parts of a star.

Nietzche tells you,  _ amor fati _ , to love your fate, but to commit to a fate as calamitous as loving a boy like Wonwoo is something else entirely. The days aren’t always good. Wonwoo isn’t always kind. He yearns to give Soonyoung the world. He falls short every time. He wants to do a lot of things. Wonwoo is mortal. He doesn’t always get them done. But there Soonyoung is anyways, through the thick and thin of it all.    


He wonders, many times. Am I worth being loved? And every time he does, Soonyoung is there to kiss his forehead. There to ruffle his hair. To curl up within Wonwoo’s bones, as if he is determined to carve a space for himself somewhere inside Wonwoo’s body. 

He looks over at Soonyoung and he thinks:  _ thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou. _ He thinks it so hard that the words slip out, awkward, clumsy, unbidden. 

“For what?” Soonyoung asks simply, tilting his face towards the ceiling. He spreads his fingers out and pretends to touch the stars through the cracked plaster. Wonwoo feels something in his chest unfurl. His heart aches with a heavy sort of want, the kind that makes Wonwoo want to wrap up the other boy in his arms and protect him for eons to come. 

(Eternity is a scary word. So is forever. But he’d brave it, just for Soonyoung.) 

“For nothing in particular,” Wonwoo says quietly. “Just… thank you.”

Soonyoung turns to look at him. There’s an adorable scrunch to his nose. Wonwoo wishes it’d stay there forever, but he’s not naive. All good things must come to an end. That’s what makes them good. That’s what makes them worth giving up other things for. Wonwoo would sacrifice a great deal of things for Soonyoung. He would.

Soonyoung laughs, wild and free. “What I wouldn’t give to know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours sometimes.”

Wonwoo smiles, then. “Someday.”

The taste of the word on his tongue is surprisingly sweet.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> call me beep me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/swimnfoois) if u wanna reach me


End file.
